Whatever it Takes
by techybae
Summary: A promise made to a brother and a friend long gone, gone but never forgotten. A love so strong that even from a pit of resignation and despair, she found strength to make her able to cross the seas and move the very mountains. This is the story of Lyra Cassiopeia Black, a story about loss and recovery, a story about family.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

 **A/N: So, this is a plot bunny I've had in my head for some time. Now, I'm a great fan of genderbends of all kinds, and a huge Fem!Harry fan in particular. What I rarely see, however, is Fem!Sirius... so, I thought, "Why not both?". And here it is. Now, there are a few reasons I wanted to write this. Firstly, I find the idea of the Marauders as a "boys club" type thing to be a bit boring, one of the reasons I like the Harry/Hermione/Ron dynamic so much is party because of its diversity, as it were. Secondly, I love the Mother-Daughter dynamic, so why not turn the Godfather into a Godmother? Other than the genderbend spin, the story will be fairly canon compliant as far as worldbuilding goes (as for any ships, I haven't fully decided yet, nor would they in any way be the focus of the story, much like how they're mostly an afterthought in the canon story itself), but some changes will take place down the line based on personality differences of the changed characters the way I envision them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this first chapter. Since I'm not entirely sure about this premise or if it even has an audience, please let me know what you think in the comments.**

 **/Elin  
**

* * *

Chapter 1

In a small, cluttered and rather dingy attic flat tucked away in a corner of Diagon Alley, a tall woman with a wild mane of curly raven black hair dressed in a patched leather jacket was limping, a singe knee-high clunky boot on her right foot, tossing piles of clothes, stacks of books and shuffling small towers of dirty dishes all the while muttering to herself. In a corner, a turntable was blaring, a womans voice all but shouting _'_ _Amorphous jigsaw pieces, Falling into slots_ _'_.

Eyes lighting up, she gave the wand in her hand a flick and cried "Accio boot!".

Unfortunately, a split second later she found herself ducking down on the cluttered floor as, as far as she could tell, every pair of boots she owned, and Lyra Black was a woman who owned quite a few, came flying at her from all directions. As the last pair of rainbow striped wellies collided mid-air with a pair of her favorite pumps and landed on the top of her head, she dared at last to open one eye and peek out from the small pile of footwear. _'_ _But all the signals-send me reeling, Jigsaw Feeling_ _'_ went the turntable.

Seeing that the coast was clear, she let out a frustrated sigh she pushed her dark locks out of her face and stood up in the middle of the sitting room. And there she saw, perched precariously on a stack of vinyls and next to a photograph of a toddler who's hair kept changing colour, was her left boot. Grinning in triumph, she lipped it on. Checking herself once more in the mirror, she flicked her wand at the turntable and Siouxie screeched to a halt in the middle of the intro to _Overground_ , tucked the wand back in her jacket and then turned on the spot.

With a crack, she appeared on a narrow lane in Godric's Hollow, just outside a quaint picket gate. She knew it well, of course. In fact, she and Jamie had scrubbed and repainted it summer of 6th year as punishment for taking their brooms out on a midnight flight. Mia had been *most* displeased, though Lyra thought Monty had seemed rather amused by the whole thing.

The thought of Euphemia and Fleamont, or Mia and Monty to her, tugged uncomfortably on her heartstrings. The elderly couple had all but adopted her when she most needed a family, that Jamie considered her his sister in all but blood she knew already by then, but that his parents felt the same way warmed her heart, even now though they were gone. Still, it had seemed a waste, somehow, to snuff it from _dragonpox_ of all things in the middle of a war.

She sauntered up the lane to the cottage. It was much the same, a wild garden, though Lils was far more partial to fairy lights than Mia had been and the hedges, trees, bushes and the sides of the cobbled path sparkled like stars in the darkness. At the door she slammed the heavy brass knocker down and waited.

Shuffling on the other side of the door and then "Identify yourself." a stern voice demanded.

"Oi! It's me you tosser!" she said loudly, with some mirth.

The man on the other side of the door scoffed as the locks clicked "Might as well be your own personal password, that." James Potter said with a grin as the door swung open to admit her. She flung her arms around his neck and he swung her inside with a laugh.

"Been too damn long, Ly." he said smiling "And I've got big news and all!".

"Aw, did ya miss me Jamie?" she cooed and pinched his cheek lightly.

Chuckling and swatting her hand away, he led the way into the sitting room, picking up some butterbeers from the larder as they passed through the kitchen.

"No, but really, I know. I missed you too, both of you." she said apologetically as she sat down in the plush sofa in front of the fire that crackled merrily in the grate. "But you know how it is, department's stretched thin at the moment. As it is I only got the weekend off because I fell asleep on Moody at the briefing Thursday." James roared with laughter.

"Honestly it's not funny." she said, though grinning as well "Right terrifying he is, Mad Eye."

As James nodded fervently, still smirking, Lily came sauntering into the room with a exasperated frown on her face. "Honestly James, you'll wake the village. Hi Lyra" she greeted Lyra with a smile.

"Lils" Lyra acknowledged, raising her bottle in greeting.

"You and your nicknames" Lily shook her head, smirking at her friend.

"I like giving nicknames" Lyra grinned "Makes me all approachable like."

They chatted for a while, catching up while tiptoeing around the topic of the war.

"Look, we have something we wanted to talk to you about. I'm.." James began seemingly unsure of how to proceed "Well, I'm quitting the corps-"

"You're what!?" Lyra exclaimed loudly "And what am I supposed to do, partner with _Dawlish_? You know I hate the bloke." she finished with a distinct whinge.

"well, that is, you see, it's..." James spluttered

"What James is trying to say, Lyra is that-" Lily began, only to be interrupted by James blurting "We're having a baby!"

Lily rolled her eyes at her husband and then turned back to Lyra "Yes, that."

Lyra, for her part, was stunned into silence, and sat on the sofa blinking owlishly for a few moments before a wide grin slowly started to spread over her face until she finally shrieked loudly and flew at them both, engulfing both Potters in a fierce hugh.

"Oh sorry Lils." She exclaimed, backing off "But oh Merlin this is exciting, when, do you know yet, how long have you known-" she rambled, making Lily laugh fondly.

"Oi! Calm down you nutter." James laughed, pushing her back down in the sofa by her shoulders. "By July, August at the latest the healer said. But listen Ly, what we really wanted to talk to you about was... well."

"We'd like you to be the baby's Godmother." Lily added gently. Her husband, looking relieved, nodded fervently.

"Yeah, what with... everything, you never know, and I need to know the kid would be safe, taken care of, even if..." James trailed off somberly.

Lyra leaned forward and took his hand in hers "'Course I will" she said quietly "Whatever it takes, I swear it."

Suddenly a loud clap of thunder shook the house, a flash ran through the cottage and Lyra jerked. When she got her bearings again, James and Lily were gone, the grate was cold, the lights were out. "Jamie?" she called hesitantly "... Lils?". She got no answer except the howling of the wind. Making her way out through the kitchen, in the hallways, she froze.

"... no" she whispered hoarsely "nonono! Jamie, no..." with a sob, she sank down on her knees by the body of her best friend, her brother. Cradling his head in her lap, disbelieving, she cried. Suddenly, she heard a piercing cry from upstairs, a toddlers cry "Holly..." she said hoarsely, as another clap of thunder rung out. 

* * *

She jerked awake as a loud thunderclap rolled over the roaring north sea outside her cell. Shivering even as the rattling breaths receded down the corridor seeking its next target. It was always the same, whenever she allowed herself to be human, to feel, to dream, they would come in the night. Resignedly, she transformed, the matted black fur providing some welcome warmth despite everything. White a soft whine she curled up into a ball, even if she didn't dream the same way as a dog, she still felt the absence of those she loved, after a moment, sleep overtook her once again.

She couldn't really tell how many hours later she woke again. The storm was still raging outside, but the sliver of light from the small window suggested it was at least now after dawn. In her canine form, she heard them long before she otherwise would have. The shuffling, clattering footsteps of the Watchman, a portly fellow who's name she didn't know but who was, at least, not overtly cruel. And someone else, a pair of finer shoes, not the clattering steel heels of the Watchmen. Transforming back into human form, albeit reluctantly, she waited for the footsteps to get closer. They stopped outside the bars of her cell, and while part of her would rather just be left alone, a bigger part of her was glad for the distraction, the break in monotony.

"Time to get up, Black!" the watchman barked, rattling the bars "We've company".

Sighing so deeply that the cold, damp air burnt in her lungs and made her let out a wet cough, she rolled over, slung her thing legs over the cot and heaved herself upright. She wouldn't bother to stand unless ordered to do so, however.

"ᚷᛉ390, Black, Minister." the Watchman said, and stepped to the side.

An in Lyras opinion quite comical looking man stepped into view behind the bars. He was dressed in pinstriped robes and cloak, with a lime green bowler hat that he was twirling and wringing in his hands nervously.

"Ah, yes" he said, a little breathlessly "Miss Black. I'm Cornelius Fuge, Minister for Magic."

Ah, so an inspection then, Lyra thought. She'd been through one of these before, though back then this man hadn't been Minister. At least she hadn't allowed herself to hope, even briefly, that she was about to be given a trial this time around. "Minister" she croaked, wincing slightly at the sound of her own, disused voice.

"Yes, well..." the minister mumbled "so, how, er, how are things ?" he finally asked.

Despite everything, Lyra couldn't help but snort. Only a politician could come to a place like Azkaban, speak with a lifer and ask the proverbial 'nice weather today, eh?'. "Can't complain." She wheezed at last, knowing that doing so would accomplish little. Not that she hadn't earned some good girl points, she was in fact, as far as such a thing existed in Azkaban, a model prisoner. No shouting, no attempts at cannibalism those times the hand that slid the meal through the bars happened to be human. Still, there were very little that could be made better in a place like this.

"Yes, well, glad to hear it." Fudge continued "We're doing an inspection of the prison today, so lots of prisoners to see, best be off" he rattled off quickly.

"Say minister" she called out just as he was turning away

"... yes?"

"Mind if I have that Propeth?" she asked, pointing with a shaking finger at the rolled up newspaper sticking out of one of the minister's robe pockets "It gets awfully dull in here, and I do so miss the crosswords." she finished with a yellowing grin.

Minister Fudge fidgeted slightly, glancing at the Watchman, who in turn shrugged his shoulders to indicate that he really couldn't care less. "Yes, quite understandable of course." he said, tossing the newspaper through the bars onto the floor.

"Much obliged." Lyra croaked, though she didn't get up to claim her prize until she heard the footsteps of the two men receding down the corridor.

Picking up the newspaper she began to scan it lazily. It was soothing, seeing other people again, even if it was just in pictures. Even the absolutely _barking_ predictions of the Whiltshire Oracle were entertaining after 12 years of little to look at but the same 4 walls containing the same 474 identifiable stones.

Having gone through the paper once, she started over gain from the front page, scanning every detail minutely this time. On the front page, a family stood in front of the egyptian pyramids, waving frantically at the camera with broad grins on their faces. Lyras dry, chapped lips twitched slightly. The Weasleys. She didn't know them, but she was fairly certain the plump woman in the picture was Gid and Fab's little sister, as she thought she'd heard something about her dating a Weasley boy. Then she saw it, there, on the youngest boys shoulder. "... Peter." she hissed, with such venom that the word might have eroded the stones that kept her there.

A few days later, an emaciated, frozen black dog crawled onto a stony beach outside the town of Bridlington. Few people would have spotted the beast in the darkness, dewer still would have expected it to, after crawling into the brush, transform into an equally scraggly, emaciated and frozen black haired woman.

Lyra lay panting and shivering in the thick, tall grass. A ragged, hoarse laugh bubbled in her rattling chest. "Whatever it takes" she wheezed "I swear it, Jamie..."

Crawling further inland, she found a culvert that smelled absolutely fowl, even to her dulled senses, but it was dry and some form of pipe running along the top actually provided some heat. She transformed back into a dog, and curled up in one of the darker corners. The night was actually the most pleasant she had had in the past 12 years. It was quiet, she was warmer than she remembered being in a very long time once her body had dried. In the morning, she began to plan. The rat would be at Hogwarts in the fall, naturally, but that was still some weeks off, assuming the Prophet she'd been given was even somewhat curent, and she had no idea where the Weasley family lived. Holly, on the other hand, she had a good idea where Holly might be. She wasn't happy about it, but it seemed the only logical place for the girl to have been sent after her own failure.

Sighing, she transformed yet again and set out to get her bearings, and then, set a course for Surrey.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Right, so, chapter 2. When I first attempted this story, one of the reasons it puttered out was I rushed things too much, therefore, I'm trying to "slow down" a bit as it were. A big portion of this fic, at least at first, will be dedicated to telling the story of what happened between the knight bus scene and the final showdown in the shrieking shack. So, this will mostly be a PoA behind the scenes, though don't worry, we will get some Holly Potter scenes in there as well, the plan is to integrate the two main characters more as we get further in, but**  
 **for plot reasons it may seem largely like two almost separate stories at first.**

 **But, no one likes lengthy A/Ns, so on with the story. Hopefully you enjoy the next chapter and, again, feedback is appreciated.**

 **/Elin**

* * *

Chapter 2

Two nights later, as she paused behind a petrol station just outside of Hull, she contemplated her next move. She'd made good time, really, clearing the near 50 mile trip in under 48 hours. She'd been exhausted, but she was regaining strenght even now. Muggles, it seemed, had grown more wasteful in her absence, nearly everywhere she'd find completely edible, even tasty food just lying about. _'Or,'_ she mused _'you've been eating moldy bread for 12 years an anything tastes like one of Mia's puddings to you now'_

Regardless, making it to Surrey, however, at this pace was out of the question, even assuming she could make it that long in a populated area for that long without being detected. The muggles weren't a problem, some of them were scared senseless of Padfoot, but most of them just looked away uncomfortably and ignored her. But the hunt was on now, and the Ministry had even enlisted the help of the muggle aithorities, given that she'd heard her name mentioned one a muggle wireless in a lorrey last night as she'd trotted past a rest stop outside Osgodby.

There was nothing for it, really. Risky as it was, she could use, no _needed_ a wand. She could apparate, she could dissolution herself, confund pursuers, conjure fresh water rather than having to lap it up from small puddles that always tasted of petrol and rotting leaves. She could build a fire to warm her bones.

Plopping the last piece of the half sausage roll she'd filched from a rubbish bin in her mouth, she forced the more fanciful thoughts from her mind. It was useless to think about before she even had said wand, getting lost in fantasies would only make her sloppy, and she certainly couldn't afford to. Not now. There was, she knew, a rather large magical community in Hull. Nothing close to London, or even Hogsmeade of course, but at least large enough to have some form of public place, someplace where people might gather, someplace where they might not always keep an eye on their wand. Smirking, she transformed and trotted off into the bushes at the back of the station, towards the orange glow hitting the clouds off in the distance.

* * *

It was too easy really, she thought in retrospect. The magical area of Hull was actually several independent buildings rather than an entire street, such as in London, so finding the right place had proven to be a bit of a challenge. As Padfoot, she could get around relatively easily, if anyone looked twice, she was long gone by the time they did. While trotting up and down Whitefriargate, she eventually began spotting people who were, quite obviously, witches and wizards. A pointy hat here, a cloak that were clearly poorly transfigured robes there. After some additional observation, she narrowed down a specific building that, in addition clearly being invisible to muggles as none of them seemed to even so much as glance at it, also had clearly inebriated magical folk coming out of it.

Lounging in a shrub across the street from the victorian townhouse, she waited well into the wee hours. Most patrons, while drunk or at least noticeably intoxicated, seemed to have their wits about them well enough, or too well for her purposes, anyway. Around 2 in the morning, however, she spotted a tall, gangly wizard in shabby robes stumble out of the front door and head off down the street towards the alley she had deduced must serve as the apparition point for this particular area. She trotted after him at a safe distance, ducking in and out of corners and behind rubbish bins as she went. As she rounded the corner into the alley, she saw the wizard doing a peculiar sort of dance, attempting, it seemed, to be trying to catch his own tail. Muttering drunkely to himself he he twisted and turned, rummaging through his many pockets.

After a few moments of this, the man seemed to tilt slightly to the right and then, slowly, fell against a brick wall and started to snore loudly. The big, black dog blinked owlishly at the scene for a moment, it really did seem to good to be true, unless he really _had_ lost his wand. Looking around once more for good measure, she shifted back into human form and approached cautiously. Standing over the man, she recoiled slightly. This guy was pungent to say the least, and it wasn't just the firewhisky either. Bending down she began rummaging through the pockets methodically. Tickets to a Cannons game 6 years ago, a packet of Pepper Imps; she pocketed that one gleefully, and copious amounts of limp. Growing frustrated at finding nothing but rubbish, she got a bit bolder and patted down the inside pockets as well and, there, she felt the unmistakable outline of a thin stick. Trembling slightly, she lifted the lapel and fished it out. It was dark in the alley, but she could see it was a well worn yet well maintained piece. It was a dark wood, something was carved into the base and along it's length but she couldn't quite make it out, but it appeared to be runes. And even foot, if she had to guess. Running a finger along it, she felt the familiar tug at her magic. It wasn't a perfect fit, not like her own wand had been all those years ago in a dusty shop in Diagon Alley, but she felt like it would be at least serviceable. And it was a right lucky find really, given the circumstances. Hand trembling in anticipation, she gave the wand a flick and whispered "Lumos", her first use of a spell in over a decade felt exhilerating, it was really no other word for it. The wand tip lit up brightly, the blue glow made the dingy alley look a lot cleaner than it actually was

"Oi!" a voice shouted from behind her. Lyra jumped and whirled around, the wand went out instantly. There, at the mouth of the alley, stood a young man leaning towards her and squinting at the now darker alley. "Wotcha doin' to 'im, eh!?" he asked, swaying a little on his feet.

Lyra, thinking quickly and ignoring the shouts of the man behind her, bolted deeper into the alley and behind a large wheelie bin near the brick wall at the end. Without really thinking, she turned on the spot sloppily and then, with a loud _crack_ she appeared in a small courtyard. She swayed on the spot, a bit disoriented. Not the least because, really, it was hard to tell that she had actually left. Save for the dimensions of the courtyard, square rather than elongated, it looked pretty much exactly like the alleyway she'd just left. After calming herself down some, Lyra thought that was most probably precisely why she'd ended up here. This was the back of a bookshop near to the Astoria on Charing Cross. It's the spot she'd always used when she wanted to go to Diagon when the street would be full of people. _'Well,'_ she thought _'at least I'm a lot closer now...'_

* * *

As she hunkered down behind a corner shop munching on some kind of stale pastry on the 11th day on the run, Lyra felt that things were getting rather ridiculous. She'd deduced that Holly would be with her horsefaced cow of an aunt, and she remembered that said horsefaced cow lived with her walrus of a husband in a shoebox in Surrey. She'd found the shoebox, or rather, she'd found a whole _stack_ of them; all identical, all decorated with the same flowerbeds and the same garden gnomes. Even the motors on the drives were of the same general makes and models with only a few colour variations, all lined up neatly. The sameness of this place was, Lyra thought, downright creepy; and she'd grown up in a bastion of dark magic.

The sheer number of near little identical houses made the rest of her search quite a lot harder though. She'd been patrolling the neighborhoods at night, looking for any sign, but she was quite frankly starting to give up hope on the whole operation. This place was absolutely huge, thousands of muggles, and the chance of just _happening_ upon a single witch in this throng was slim to none, nevermind that said witch was living as a muggle and underage, so wouldn't be likely to give anything away either.

Lyra sighed and transformed again and trotted off down the nearest street. She'd been working methodically since arriving in the town of Little Whinging, from east to west, and she was now nearing the outer edges to the west. When she arrived at the little park opposite a playground she'd chosen to sleep in she could actually hear and see the carriageway that marked the towns outer border. It had rained just over an hour ago but now she could see the stars start to twinkle above her, but she wasn't cold. In fact, the air felt crisp and new, like it'd been rinsed out, the dog took a deep breath, the smell of wet tarmac and grass. She sat in a small clearing in the bushes in the park and looked up at the sky. She'd always liked the stars, she'd loved Astronomy at school and it'd been one of her best subjects; it'd also been pretty much the only thing about her parents had ever approved of.

As she watched the stars her eyes caught something else; a round, dark shape that seemed to be flowing and twirling with the breeze. It looked like a giant balloon, only stranger, it seems to have what looked like stubby arms and legs flapping about. As the balloon came closer, she could her screaming coming from it, though it came out as more of a _'whooping'_ sound, really. _'… what the?'_

She froze as she heard another sound, this time much closer to earth. Someone was dragging something down the street towards the carriageway. Carefully, she crept closer to the edge of the bushes and peeked out. A young girl, short and thing with long, wild black hair was stalking down the street with long, angry steps. She was dragging behind her a trunk-on-wheels that looked comically big for her. The girl was muttering to herself and seemed rather lost in thought. Even as a giddy hope stirred in her chest, Lyra forced herself not to follow her instincts immediately, something made _much_ harder by her transformed state, but to simply observe for now.

The girl came to a sudden halt right in front of Lyra, staring out towards the carriageway. Lyra was staring, transfixed. The hair, the glasses, the cheekbones; everything. When the girl turned around, a flash of the brightest green could be seen and that, above all, made her certain. This was her, the could be no doubt about it. Tentatively, she took a few steps forward and made her way out of the bushes. Her paws rustled some leaves and the girl, Holly, looked up sharply. Those green eyes widened almost comically for a second before she shot to her feet and fumbled with her hands behind her back. Lyra stopped, as to not scare the poor girl but when she pulled out a wand, acting on pure instinct honed long ago she recoiled, and without thinking or meaning to, let out a growl and an angry bark. She regretted it immediately but the damage was already done, Holly flinched back, tripped over her large trunk and toppled backwards.

 _BANG!_ A loud crack tore through the night and for a panicked moment Lyra thought the Aurors had found her and were apparating in to cease her. But the she saw the street now bathed in bright light and a purple tripple decker bus coming slowly to a halt in front of her, obscuring Holly from few.

She groaned internally even as she scurried back into cover of the bushes. She tried to listen to the conversation happening on the other side of the bus but even her canine hearing couldn't make it out over the distance and the humming and sputtering of the Knight Bus's engine. After a few minutes, Holly's head popped out from the back of the bus, quickly followed by another head slightly above belonging to a spotty teenage boy in a conductors cap. Apparently satisfied that the big bad wolf was nowhere to be seen, the boy shrugged and soon after, Holly too withdrew her head. The bus soon began puttering down the road and then _BANG!_ With a loud crack it was gone again, just as quickly as it'd come.

Lyra transformed, steped out into the middle of the road and stared forlornly at the spot where Holly had been _just minutes before_. She looked at the spot, down the road where the bus had gone off to, and back again, before finally chuckling despite herself. "Well, bollocks" she said quietly to herself.

There was of course no telling where Holly'd go now. A friends house, Diagon Alley, even Hogwarts. Making a snap decision, Lyra decided to go with the latter option, she'd be there soon enough regardless of where she went now, and this way there'd be some time to scope out the area around the school, check on the old passage ways to make sure they're still open, find a place to live off-grounds but not in the village. She'd be kept plenty busy until September. The only problem was, she wasn't entirely certain where Hogwarts actually _was,_ she'd never given it much thought. She knew a few places that were supposedly close by though, so focusing very hard on a paddock near Dufftown and then turned on the spot, with a loud crack the street once again lay empty and quiet.


End file.
